Saturday, 31 January 2015

Sweet revenge keeps her alive … and drives her to kill.I am the forgotten one, the girl who was left for dead. In this mental hospital I call prison I plot my revenge. I remember everything. Their faces. Their touch. Even their smell. What they did to me was beyond cruel. I’m going to return the favor. In here I survive by using someone just as they used me. One of them wants to claim me as his own. A man without mercy, without a conscience, craving the wickedness inside me. But I won’t be a puppet for his desires. I will play his strings like a puppeteer and use him to escape. And when I do … I will kill them all.This is Ashley's story and the final book in the Delirious Series. This is a full-length novel. These books should be read in order.WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, dubious consent, and graphic violence.

ClickHEREto head over to Clarissa Wild's Facebook Page and enter the giveaway!

About the Author

Clarissa Wild is the USA Today Bestselling author of FIERCE, a college romance series, but she's best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.Check out my sexy books:http://smarturl.it/clarissawildbooks

Release Date: February 2, 2015

Sexy, tattooed and inevitably dangerous. Memphis is all that and more…
I live for the pain; it’s what drives me to keep moving. But there comes a time when one has to push the demons aside in order to survive.
I thought I buried them deep. I thought I was ready to finally live. Until… my brother, Alex; he throws me into the fire—right into the place I could never control myself, the one place I never want to be again.
When I put my hands on people, they get hurt. Things happen that bring me back to that night. The one that will forever torment me.
I’m doing fine, keeping to myself in order to ensure no one gets hurt by me. Then along comes Lyric, and all I want to do is touch her, to put my hands in places that I know will only lead to her being crushed by me.
She’s the rush that I crave. The darkest of poison running through my veins, killing me bit by bit; like a drug I can’t get enough of even though I’m almost down to my last breath.
And being around her only hurts more, but what she doesn’t understand is that I welcome the pain; I get off on it, which in the end leaves me with the hardest decision of my life—one that might get us all killed…Lyric steps away and laughs before walking over and stopping in front of me. She looks up into my eyes and licks her bottom lip. Her whole body is glistening with sweat now, and all I can think about is tasting every inch of her. “Dance with me, Memphis.”
I pull my eyes away from her lips and flex my jaw. As much as I want to put my hands all over, I need to fight it, but this fucking liquor isn’t doing much to help it.
“No, Lyric.”
She takes a step closer and runs her tiny, soft hand down my arm. “Just once. It’s not even a big deal. It’s just a dance. It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me. I’m asking you to touch me.”
“You want me to touch you,” I growl. I roughly slide my hands over her hips before gripping her waist and slamming her up against the wall. Leaning in, I fist her hair in my hand and whisper in her ear. “Is this how you want me to touch you? Touching someone that I know always leads to them getting hurt.” I grip her waist tighter and press my body flush with hers. Her body trembles against mine and her breathing picks up as my bottom lip brushes over her ear. “I’m fucking tainted, Lyric. Running now would be your best option.”
She looks up into my eyes and wets her lips, fighting to catch her breath. “I. Want. You. To. Touch. Me. I’m not running anywhere.”
FUCK! Those words do me in.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author.
Victoria Ashley grew up in Rockford, IL and has had a passion for reading for as long as she can remember. After finding a reading app where it allowed readers to upload their own stories, she gave it a shot and writing became her passion.
She lives for a good romance book with bad boys that are just highly misunderstood and is not afraid to be caught crying during a good read. When she's not reading or writing about bad boys, you can find her watching her favorite shows such as Sons Of Anarchy, Dexter and True Blood.
She is the author of Wake Up Call, This Regret, Slade (Walk Of Shame #1), Hemy (Walk of Shame #2), and Get Off on the Pain. Victoria is currently working on more novels for 2015.

Haunted by memories of her brother’s death, and
searching for answers, Lily
Hartembarks on a
career that takes her into a seedy underworld, where she is exposed to wealth,
greed, lust and the reign of gorgeous, powerful, and dangerous men—one man in
particular wreaks havoc on her emotions.

At thirtyJake Edenhas everything: looks to die for,
money, power and a never-ending line of twisted, fucked-up women willing to do
anything to get with him. Love? Love was for pussies…until a woman with the
stage name of ‘Jewel’ arrives on the scene. She alone is different from all the
others.

Oozing pure, unadulterated sex, strong,
intelligent and independent, she is everything he should stay away from, but
she makes him itch to tame her and keep her for himself.

‘Nooooooo,’ I howl, but there
is gravel or grave soil in my throat, and nothing other than an ugly, dried-up
rasp travels out of my mouth. My head shakes back and forth like a mindless
wind-up toy. Even my body is denying the horror before my eyes. Without warning
my knees buckle under me, and I find myself in a heap at the doorway of his
flat. Frantically, I begin to crawl toward him, screaming, babbling.

I can’t
lose him! Not him! Oh God, not him. Please. Not him.

Two
feet away from his body and it occurs to me: this is just a nightmare. Of
course it is. It has to be. Any moment now I’ll wake up. And the first thing
I’ll do? Call him and tell him how much I have missed him, how much I love him.

I feel the floor scrape against my bare knees. It isn’t a nightmare. It is real.

We
haven’t spoken for two weeks. I had exams and when I called his mobile, it went
straight to voicemail… Shit excuse. I should have called again, I should have
emailed. Why hadn’t I? I should have known.

I
hunker down over his body, my pose ungainly, heavy, that of a suffering beast.
My buttocks hit the floor and my legs fold up and cross under me. I press my
fingers against my open mouth and stare at him. His lips and fingers are blue
and the rest of him is ashen and still. He can’t be dead.

It can’t be
real!

The
stillness of a dead body is impossible to describe. And yet when you see it you
refuse to believe it. You always think it is a trick. A mistake. A ploy… But a
needle is embedded in his arm, which is blackened with the skin stretched and
unreal. It looks as if it belongs elsewhere. That is not my brother’s arm. I
know my brother’s arm as intimately as I know my own.

My
breathing is shallow and trembling. I suck a huge burst of air into my lungs
and pull the offending needle out. My stomach twists. It should never have entered his body in the first
place. I throw the syringe away. It hits something and rolls on the wooden
floor. It also leaves a tiny hole in my brother’s flesh that does not bleed. I
swallow hard. My hands are shaking badly.

That means he didn’t suffer,
a voice whispers in my head. He did not even have time to pull it out before he
was gone to wherever it is he went to.

Oh God! He is nineteen. He can’t be
gone.

CPR.
I should give him CPR. There must be something I can still do. I grab his shoulders
and try to drag him across my thighs, but his body is so heavy, so cold, and so
stiff and foreign that my shocked hands fly away from his shoulders as if they
have touched fire. I gaze at him as he lies unmoving. The blood that ran
without rest during his short life has stilled within his veins. Everything has
cooled and hardened. He is like a piece of wood.

With
a sob of intolerable, indescribable anguish I reach for him and with every
ounce of my might I drag his cold, dead weight toward me and lift it onto my
lap. I touch the soft brown hair that flops across his forehead and it feels
different. His scalp has hardened and changed the lie of his hair. I caress his
hair, his face, his hands. Holding his head pressed against my stomach I close
my eyes and begin to rock him the way a mother would comfort her distressed
baby.

But
there is no comfort—his head is a hard, unfamiliar weight and the action
produces an odd thud made by his stiff hand repeatedly hitting the floor. I
stop. In a daze I look down on his face.

His
mouth is open, the tongue—a strange, dull color—is pushed against his teeth.
Without the healthy sheen of saliva it looks gross. I try to close his mouth,
but it is locked open. His eyes are not fully shut and through the slits I see the
whites. I try to lift a lid to see once more the beautiful blue eyes I have
known all my life.

If
I could at least see that.

But
his eyelids are glued shut. They will not budge. Tremors shoot through my hand
as I still the gruesome desire to force his eyelid open. When we were young we
used to lick the salt from each other’s skin. I am suddenly filled with the
strange desire to lick his skin.

I
put one hand under his head and the other under his neck and I put his head on
the floor. Then I scoot backwards until I am on my hands and knees and my face
is hovering inches away from his. My head moves downwards. My tongue comes out.
Inches away a voice in my head urgently cries, ‘No.’

I
stop and listen to peculiar silence around us. It is quieter than falling snow.
On the table top I notice his fingerprints in the light layer of dust, and then
something weird happens. For a second I clearly perceive myself not from inside
my body but from outside, crouched over my dead brother, more animal than
human. I recoil from the sight. And then the moment is gone and I lower my head
and lick the last salt on the corpse’s skin.

It
is the beginning of my descent into an unfamiliar territory. A place you might
call madness.

I’m
afraid my stay was excruciatingly long.

Georgia
Le Carre

Author
Bio

Georgia Le Carre lives in
England, in an old 19th century romantic cottage surrounded by a magical garden
filled with fruit and walnut trees.

When she is not feeding words into her laptop,
she is either curled up in bed with a box of chocolates and a good read, or lost
in a long walk in the woods. Especially on moonlit nights. And often with the man of her dreams.

Friday, 30 January 2015

One night of indulging in her carnal nature will unlock a world of mystery and desire she never dreamed existed.

A year has passed since Addison George was left at the altar after her husband-to-be announced he was gay. Still friends despite what happened, she secretly harbors hope that all of this was a phase and he will come crawling back to her. That dream is shattered when he announces that he’s engaged to the man he left her for.

Spiraling out of control, Addison agrees to accompany her best friend to the sex party of the year. Hosted by world-renowned erotic romance author, Sebastian Hawk, exposed anonymity is the name of the game. The rules are simple: all guests are required to remain nude for the duration of the event, except for a mask to hide one’s identity, and everyone must partake in at least one salacious delight.

Out of her sexual league, Addison spends the evening with a certain clothed employee who explains to her the world in which the enigmatic author lives. While she wishes to understand more about the strange novelist, Addison can’t help but feel drawn to the handsome and mysterious employee who has introduced her to the sensual realm of Indulgence.

Lost in a world of secrets and passion, Addison will unmask the man behind the mystery while exploring her carnal nature. Through it all, she’ll discover that not everything is as it seems, and to never judge a book solely by its cover.

Jeanne McDonald began telling stories at the ripe young age of five, when her mother considered the truth to be a lie due to her extensive embellishment to the retelling of an event. She wrote her first short story when she was twelve years old, and at the age of sixteen she tried her hand at poetry. She reconnected with her love for writing in 2010 thanks to the encouragement of a dear friend.

Her passions include a "mild" Starbucks addiction, music, reading, quotes, movies, and romance. When she's not spending time with her family, she can be found reading, writing, chatting with her friends or diligently working toward her bachelor's degree in Literature. A proud Texan, Jeanne currently resides in the Dallas/Fort Worth area with her family.

I extended my hand out to her, almost afraid she might bite it off. She wrapped the red ribbon around my wrist, prepared to clasp it together with an adhesive strip. “You are to wear your card at all times. In each room, you will find plenty of writing, utensils along with protection. For every partner you engage in activities with tonight, you’re required to notate their name on this card. Tomorrow morning, you will hand this back in and we will return your license to you. Is that clear?”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. Not that I thought keeping track of our partners was a bad idea, because it was quite brilliant, but having some stranger sifting through my sex partners left me unsettled. My crush on Sebastian Hawk was a moot point. It was bad enough he had access to everything else, including my blood type. This was my private affair, and I wanted it to remain that way.

I ripped my arm back before the clasp completely closed, leaving the card in scary lady’s hands. “Excuse me, but I wish to keep my card. It’s no one else’s business who I fuck but my own.”

“Addison,” Amber warned me.

I jerked my head up, looking at Amber. “No. This is ludicrous,” I argued. “Who gives him the right to know who I fuck or not?”

“It’s no big deal. Just take the card,” she hissed.

I might’ve been out my comfort zone, but I also wasn’t the type of person who’d back down when I felt something wasn’t right. I had no qualms in speaking my mind. It might’ve gotten me in trouble more times than not, but I figured if I didn’t defend myself, who would?

“No. You said this was about freedom, about taking chances, but there are some things I don’t take chances with. I refuse to allow…”

Out of no where, a man appeared behind the desk. His light, blue-eyed gaze washed over me, causing every follicle on my skin to stand on end. My body tingled with excitement. All I could do was stare at him. He was the epitome of a god.

Skin, lightly kissed by the sun. Hair, the color of pale gold. He was tall but the air around him made him appear taller. The tip of his tongue darted out over his lips, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and capture it between my teeth. My eyes drifted down, catching the sight of a hard, lean body. His hands tucked away in his pockets, pulling his suit jacket away from his hips. When I realized I was staring at his crotch, I quickly shifted my eyes to meet his. Bad move. Once locked in his sights, I was done for.

I never imagined things could get worse, but they do. The men who took us show no mercy. They won’t stop until they’ve destroyed Rafe for something he has no memory of, and I’m their weapon of choice.

Tortured and defiled, they make me wish I was back in that cabin where death was favorable to drawing another breath, but our captors can’t break what’s already broken.

What scares me is the madness I see festering inside Rafe. I’ve taken his freedom, his career, his reputation, yet despite all I’ve done, he’s determined to fight for me, kill for me, give everything he is for me.

He’ll even die for me.

NOTE TO READERS

FERVENT is a new adult dark romance with disturbing themes and explicit content, including sexual scenes and violence that may offend some. Intended for mature audiences. Part three of the CONDEMNED series. This is not a stand-alone read! Please begin with TORRENT and RAMPANT, otherwise, FERVENT might not make much sense.

Gemma James is the multi-genre author
of several novels and novellas, from new adult suspense to dark erotic romance.
She loves to explore the darker side of human nature in her fiction. She’s
morbidly curious about anything dark and edgy, from deviant sex to serial
killers. Readers have described her stories as being “not for the faint of
heart.”

She lives in Oregon with
her husband and their four children—three rambunctious UFC/wrestling-loving
boys and one girl who steals everyone’s attention.

Facebook

Goodreads

I received an arc in exchange for an honest review
Just a warning to people that if you don't like dark reads then this isn't the book for you, as there are scenes of violence and taboo subjects.
This book is not your typical Romeo and...

It was nice to have Bash's story in print.
I finally got to understand why he did what he did. The pressures that he was under and that he felt that he had only one way out of it.
It's nice to see a book that deals with real life issue...

This deserves 4.5 stars
This was a dark dark read, only read this if you like dark reads.
Pepper doesn't disappoint with this book, OMG Pepper but where do you get you ideas from this was fantastic.
This is a slightly different plot b...

**** I received this arc in exchange for an honest review***
This book is about two desperately messed up people who come together.
Grayson has just escaped an abusive relationship and moves home. She has a twin who is the complete opp...